Hatred's Embers: The Tragedy of Darth Mijara
by Wol5fe
Summary: Sa'avia, just a helpless little girl when the Republic troops destroyed her village and killed her family, was rescued by the formidable Lord Mortalitous. Now, a powerful Sith herself, the newly dubbed Darth Mijara seeks to overcome her greatest fear; death. Alternate Old Republic setting. Rated T, but with possible M rated material in the future.
1. Chapter 1

**Hatred's Embers**

 **Chapter I**

Fire. It's spreading hunger devours everything it comes into contact with. It consumes all with equal prejudice; house and home, family and friends, enemies and allies. And with the burning of fire comes the glowing embers of hatred towards those who sparked it's deadly and destructive flame...

Sometimes the good guys have to be the bad guys. Sometimes the bad guys are the ones who are looked upon as heroes. Sometimes, the innocent are caught in the crossfire of a war that they never wanted to have part in...

Sa'avia stood with tears swelling in her eyes; a helpless slave to the sight of her outskirts village being razed by the raging inferno, the cataclysmic percussions of the bombs falling faint in her ears compared to the dying screams of the people she once shared her life with. Lasers fired from enemy blasters gave light to the ground littered with bodies. The soldiers in white uniforms saw to it that everything that once stood was laid low in the dust. The once bronze colored sky of her home planet was now changed to a sickly maroon hue, a product of the rancid smoke and toxins expelled from the explosives. The soldiers in white marched on, leveling the small town. She could still see the red mark emblazoned on their helmets and armor. They said it stood for unity and peace. To her it was a crude resemblance of the fire that took the lives of all she cared about.

Even as she stood and watched, a threat to no one in the slightest, the pale colored troopers turned their guns to her, only another child in their eyes. They must have killed so many, what was one more? They opened fire-

—«•»—

"Hhh!" Breaking from her meditation, Sa'avia breathed out a startled gasp. These were the memories that plagued her. These dreams would not leave her, and each time they revisited her, it brought with them the cold fear of death that pierced her soul. She could remember the next moment as clear as no other memory she possessed. Even the faces of her parents were fuzzy in her mind, remembered this way one moment and another the next. But the memory of the black robed warrior that leaped in front of the enemy's blasters was as sharp and defined as the point of a needle. The warm and heroic red glow of the lightsaber he wielded was a much more peace bringing sight than the red symbols belonging to the ghastly Republic troopers. A wave of his weapon, and the enemy dropped like a stone. A clench of his hand, and the soldiers collapsed, clutching at their own throats.

She had been saved that day by the man she grew up to respect and call master. His dark, brooding, and contemplative face was the only friend she was ever loyal to. His was a harsh friendship, but his brutality had made her strong, and his distance had made her grow that much closer to him. She understood the pattern he was following. All Sith must be trained to be strong, independent, fierce. Sa'avia delighted in the rough courses that were taught by her master. Each drop of blood she lost was that much more strength gained. Each scar she developed was a determination to work harder. Soon she would be powerful enough to overcome this petty fear of death. She was alive in the Dark Side of the Force, and she would find a way to never have to see herself laying in the dust of the battlefield. Even now, as she channeled her hatred towards those that had wreaked so much havoc upon her life, she could feel the edge of a breakthrough.

She was interrupted by the hiss and groan of the durasteel door opening to her prison chamber. The familiar silhouette of her master, Lord Mortalitous, entered in, blocking out the light that streamed in from the corridor, illuminating the permanently dark prison chamber. His was the only lively figure she had seen in weeks, and she felt the tug of respect towards it. She did not smile, however. She wanted him to see the work which she had performed first, before ever gracing her with his gaze. He did.

She had not been alone in the chamber for all this time. A gaunt young man leaned against the wall of the cage opposite Sa'avia's. Occasionally he grunted. Often times he hissed, or moaned, or even screamed. However, now he simply stood there, pale, unmoving except for the constant banging of his temple against the bars that contained him. He had been both a toy and a test subject for her in their cohabited seclusion. After a long study of the boy, her master finally looked round to Sa'avia, sitting cross legged with an expressionless and meditative look on her face.

"Sa'avia. I hate to congratulate you, but your success is that of wonder. I had high hopes that this one," indicating the young man, "would be the one to put an end to you." The thought of death once more pricked her insides, but she made no expression. Lord Mortalitous turned back to the other prisoner. "What a shame. So much potential in this apprentice. Dispose of him like the others." The guards that stood with him entered in with machine-like unity, opening the doors to the corrupted acolyte's cage, placing the barrel of a blaster behind his head, and pulling the trigger. They carried the corpse out of the cell and off to whatever dump they had prepared to receive one of the two of them. She was determined to never know where that was.

"You've proven most persistent and fruitful in your trials, my young apprentice. You've withstood the powerful influences of Lord Sha'hok's prized acolyte. He won't be pleased." Only now did Sa'avia raise her eyes to meet that of her master's. "He was less than fodder." To this he only nodded at. In truth, she had fought a long and hard mental battle with the boy, forced out of days of sleep by the boy's constant pushes against her mental barriers. Retaliation wasn't easy, either. His will was strong, and it took many weeks to finally break him down into hysteria. Mind manipulation was her specialty, and she wasn't going to have scum like him take that away from her.

"Do not allow your pride to exceed your potential, Sa'avia. You are still weak. However, I am inclined to bestow upon you what you may call a promotion. Hence forth, you shall be known as Darth... Mijara." She bowed her head, and gave thanks to her master, who held his look of contempt.

"Bring in the next one," Lord Mortalitous called out to his guards. "Do not rest yet, Mijara. The end is not yet in sight."

Rather than the cool, collected motion that the previous boy had entered his cage with, the girl that entered in now was frantic, jerking to the side and fighting to rid herself of her captors. The boy was the easy part, she thought. This one would put up much more a fight. No matter. Sa'avia would make sure that she would be the one to leave the cage victorious.

—«•»—

 **Author's Note: "Chewie...we're home." Yes I know I've been long gone. There's a story and a reason behind that. I've been in Sacramento California for the past year on a church mission. Lord's work or fanfiction? Hmm... Lord's work. But, I'm back for now, so enjoy my presence while you can. :) To clarify, Sa'avia's name is pronounced Sah-Ah-Vee-uh. With Mijara, the 'j' is soft, making the "zsh" sound. Sorry for being anal (laugh all you twelve year olds in the audience). Now that that is out of the way, I would also like to apologize to a certain author. He and I are best friends, and I used his Star Wars: The Old Republic character name without permission. Also, certain author, sorry for killing your non-canon apprentice. Haha sue me later.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

"Excellent work, my young apprentice," Lord Mortalitous cried out, entering into the arena. The smoldering heaps of droid parts now scattered about the training ground were swept out of his path by a wave of his hand. Darth Mijara kneeled down before her master, his robe sweeping the ground behind him as he stepped forward. "You are beginning to earn your place at my side." He stretched forth his hand and, without lifting her head, she placed the completed lightsaber into his hands. While she could not see him through the blindfold she wore, Sa'avia could sense his intrigue at the particular fashion of her weapon. The emitter was shaped to a rectangle, similar to that of a single edged sword's crosspiece. Under that, a protrusion in the shaft curved and developed into a half formed hand guard, like the handle brake of a speeder bike. His gaze followed the hilt lower, criticizing every detail. The hilt extended half a meter past that of a normal lightsaber, coming to an end with a small loop at the base. The hybrid weapon held the reach of a saber staff, but retained the maneuverability of a traditional lightsaber by shortening the length of the staff handle.

"Truly you have an eye for versatility, Darth Mijara. This weapon will be most formidable to those you encounter." This brought a hidden smile to Sa'avia's face. Her master had become much more approving in the latter years of her training. What deep respect she had had for him now had grown into one of undying loyalty. He was her father. He was her friend. He was everything to her. He was her master, and she was honored to be his apprentice.

"Run it again," he commanded, and a fresh onslaught of droids came out of the gladiator style doors. This time she allowed the smile to show as she casually retreated from her master, keeping her back to the threat. She heard the pulsating hum of the blade reach out from the emitter. And while she could not see it, she knew with a surety that the blade was as warmly red as the one her master carried in her memories.

—«•»—

"No! No! No! N- AAAAAAGGGH!" His screams were becoming marvelous to her. At the beginning of the torture session, his pitiful whimpers were just that; pitiful. But now, the cries of desperation were like a welcome sign, urging her on to go further, deeper into his mind. He was only a simple criminal, plucked off the streets of whatever planet or city he haunted, but her master had seen the haggard man as an opportunity to test her capabilities. Penetrating his mind was like swimming through muck. It was full of sinful thoughts. He had dwelt in the lower levels of Nar Shadaa all too often, and his desires were rancid. Darth Mijara had no qualms about punishing this sick fiend for the vain things of his imagination.

Plucking a scene from her own imagination, she reached out through the Force and placed it right at the forefront of his sense of reality. She could almost hear the terrible roars of the monster the man now thought he faced, and she once more indulged herself in the pleasure of his fearful tantrums.

—«•»—

The fire. The haunting hollow eyes. The flames. The cries of the ones she loved. The inferno. Her parents. The embers. The hatred. The explosions. The blasters turned towards her. The blood. The screams. The agony. The death!

"Gah!" It was like an evil voice screaming at Sa'avia from the grave, waking her from her deepest sleep. Another nightmare from the past. It haunted her. The fear of death was poison. She had hoped that after all these years, she would have learned to overcome it, possibly even embrace the idea of it. But after seeing so much of it, conducting its path occasionally, it still held her frozen in its cold clutches...

—«•»—

The hiss of the pneumatic door signaled her entrance, though Lord Mortalitous could sense Darth Mijara long before she made it to the door. Sa'avia, out of discipline and respect, kneeled down before him as he stared out into the vastness of space from the bridge of their command ship. Keeping his back to her, he searched the thoughts of her mind.

"Darth Mijara," he addressed her. With the acknowledgment, she rose and took her place at his side, also taking up the act of looking out towards the stars. "There is something that troubles you," he said, not taking his eyes off the void.

"It is of no matter," she lied.

"Your thoughts betray you. You are distressed. Do not hide it, Mijara, it gives you strength. Let your fear fuel your passion." His words, like so many times before, soothed her. They coaxed her into confession.

"I seek power, master." Her master hummed.

"Yes, so many life forms in the galaxy do. But there is something specific you are withholding." He turned a knowing eye to her.

"I fear that which I cannot perceive. I fear death." Sa'avia rested her shoulder against one of the durasteel pillars that braced the sturdy window. Lord Mortalitous kept silent, though a corner of his mouth turned upwards. "There is more you can teach me, I know it."

"Mijara," he paused. "You have been a prized apprentice and a formidable ally. There is not much else I am able to show you. However, I will grant unto you whatever I am able." She pondered for a moment.

"Are you able to show me the way to overcome death?" He grimly shook his head. "Is there someone else who can teach me?"

"Darth Mijara. Do not be foolish enough to leave my side after all the work I painstakingly went through to get you to where you are now. I have seen your potential, and I will not have you deny me your gifts," he hissed. "The futile search for immortality is one that many idealistic youth before you have gone through and met their fate at the hands of foolish tragedy. Do not follow their footsteps. Others will try to deceive you and tell you there is a way. Do not believe this. I am obligated out of respect to your loyalty to deny such a possibility of immortality. Abandon this dream." His voice was stern, and she knew better than to disobey. She bowed her head and left.

—«•»—

 **Author's Note: No. No. No. *aggressively tears all the posters of fan-service and "shipping" off the walls* There is not going to be a romantic relationship between Sa'avia and Lord Mortalitous. That's just wrong in so many ways. He's old enough to be her father. "But Anakin and Padme did it," I hear some of you saying. They were about a ten year difference, which is wrong nonetheless. These two have about 20-30 years distance, and I'm definitely not comfortable with that. Not every story has to have a love interest, especially when it comes to Sith. Sith don't do love, remember? "Channel your hatred," and all that. Anyway, may include picture of the lightsaber so there is a visual for all you beautiful readers. Yes, this is another story about a Sith trying to gain immortality. No, it is not going to be like others were they find it. I would tell you what does happen, but that's a plot turning super spoiler that I would hate to leak after only the second chapter. Tsk tsk, it simply isn't done.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

"Excuse me, my lady." The imperial agent peeked through the door of Sa'avia's simple chambers. After pausing to wait for an answer, one she did not grant him, he continued with the message. "Lord Mortalitous wishes to speak with you." She rose from her meditation and went swiftly towards door, leaving the messenger almost no time to retreat a step to let her pass. He stumbled back, attempted a hurried salute, and continued down the hall in the opposite direction. Her door closing automatically behind her, Sa'avia made her way towards the bridge.

Striding past a few more saluting guards and other personnel, she kneeled before a holographic image of her master, rendered about two times his normal size on top of the large holo-projector. He had taken a sudden leave from the command vessel, informing her that it was simply "business" he was attending to.

"What is your biding, my master," she spoke, addressing him with the common phrase.

"Rise, acolyte." He had not spoken so brusque to her in a long time. He was angry at something. Or perhaps simply annoyed. She would speak carefully. "As I said before, I am indisposed as of this moment. This is an operation that is above even your level of clearance." That explained the tone. There were officials nearby, and any interpretation of weakness from them would heap trouble upon their heads. "I'll let General Nowell'nd brief you with the details, but I give you this much myself; classified information concerning a meeting of the Republic's key military assets has come to my knowledge. The spies under my command find it best that I go to infiltrate this meeting, as their covers would be in conflict if they were to try and attend. You, my young apprentice, will go in my stead. I have faith in your abilities, so don't disappoint me." With that, Darth Mijara bowed and his image flickered and disappeared.

A stout, burley man walked up to her dressed in a high ranking military uniform. "General Nowell'nd, I presume." He gave her a mix between a nod and a bow. "I hear you have a briefing for me."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered in expected disciplinary fashion. "Lord Mortalitous already informed us of the substitution, so you have nothing to worry about," he assured her.

"There is always something to be concerned with, General. Fear keeps you on your toes." Finding nothing to contribute to the remark, the General continued.

"The plan is simple. The information, if it's good," Sa'avia raised an eyebrow to him. "Ahem, the information, which is good, places the meeting at a royal safe house on Alderaan. With a large team of soldiers, we would be able to storm the building and take the leaders hostage. However, with a Sith on our side, we will be able to forget the team and simply let you infiltrate alone."

"Alone? With no backup? What kind of operation do you call this, general?"

"It is a risky move, ma'am, I know. But if we move a large force into the area, they will be on much more of an alert than if one ship and one person are on the ground at one time. You will have your back up as soon as you feel you are overwhelmed, I assure you." She frowned at his remark.

"Overwhelmed? Might I remind you who you are talking to?"

"Apologies, my lady. We will have your back up ready for deployment at your command. Simply secure the complex and we will take it from there." General Nowell'nd straightened and saluted. Darth Mijara scoffed and made her way to the hanger.

"Prepare my shuttle!"

—«•»—

Like she had been informed, Sa'avia was on her own. She had dropped from a cargo transport 30 feet into the brisk ocean water before the craft landed at a docking bay only a few meters away. She swam the distance to the opposite end of the shore, her rebreather allowing her to stay under for as long as she required. After resurfacing, it had been a mile hike through luscious hills and beautiful countryside. She hated all of it. It only mocked the beauty of her outskirts village she had seen swept away by fire, an inferno that would eat these lively hill sides a thousand times faster than her now desolate town.

Weary from the hike, she rested in the shade of a large boulder, spotting the compound in the valley beneath her. Not much stuck out to her as suspicious, but not many safe houses did. Still, she thought, they could have at least attempted to camouflage it into the mountain surroundings instead of the ornate structure that seemed to match every other building on this planet. Sliding a view-finder from the case that hung at her hip, she scoped out the grounds and surveyed potential points of weakness and easy infiltration access. Overall, the compound was more ornate than practical. Sure, the gardens had plenty of growth to hide booby traps or snipers, but so would any durasteel platform or wall. Always trust a diplomat to prefer elegance over function. Manning the doors were a trio of lavishly dressed royal guards, with arms displayed for show more than combat. Even now, the gleam of the freshly polished barrels was enough to make her squint as she studied them. When was the last time they had been fired for any reason other than to check if they were still serviceable? She might have taken the ease of the situation for granted had she not seen the heavily armed trooper attempting his very best to remain hidden within the shadows of one of the elegant arches. Of course. The royal guards were the decoys. Anyone stupid enough would attempt to avoid them, hoping for an easy entry some other way, only to be blown to oblivion by whatever ambush lay around the corner. The reverse in psychology was tempting to rush into, but Darth Mijara was not one to be toyed with.

Sweeping the scope of the view-finder along the outer walls, she continued to spot the tops of helmets, the unnatural disturbance of a bush, and other gun barrels, all sticking up and out of secret places an intruder might attempt to gain access. For once, it appeared the front door would be the easiest option... But that was before a familiar shuttle passed overhead, and the entire mountain exploded around her.

—«•»—

While Sa'avia had been watching the compound, someone else had been watching her. Shortly after landing, the cargo transport was stripped of its contents and refilled with a squad of armed Republic commandos, complete with thermal detonators, rocket launchers, vibro-blades for close quarters, booster packs, and each a standard military automatic assault blaster. Then, just as swift as it had come in, the shuttle swooped low over the mountain ranges, following a beacon patched within the hem of the Sith apprentice's collar. As soon as she had been within visual range, the troopers leapt from the cargo hold platform, booster packs slowing their decent, and decimated the ground beneath, aiming nowhere in particular as they worked to assure the destruction of Darth Mijara.

The first shock wave knocked her clear off her feet and sent her tumbling down the mountain side, the secondary explosions propelling her farther as the ground broke apart, bits of rock and burning foliage tearing her clothes and flesh to shreds. She had been fortunate enough, however, to been blown clear of the deadly projectiles that still repeatedly struck the ground where Sa'avia had been standing a moment before. She lay still for a moment, the wind having long since been knocked out of her lungs. Just as she started to rise from her crumpled position, she felt the cold contact of a blaster barrel pressed into her head from behind.

"Don't you dare make a move," was the cold and semi robotic voice that admonished her to obey, echoed through an airtight helmet via a radio communicator. Shortly thereafter, her head was forced to the ground as the butt of the weapon fell swiftly upon the back of her skull, stars gleaming in her vision, and Sa'avia blacked out.

—«•»—

Darth Mijara awoke partially to a gruff and authoritative voice scolding someone beside her. Bits and pieces of the conversation made their way to recognition, but the rest fell on deaf ears.

What seemed like days passed by before she opened her eyes again, and this time she was greeted with bright lights and a bulky silhouette. She didn't even have the time for her vision to clear before a gloved hand connected with her cheek and knocked her head sideways. But she did not fall over. She couldn't fall over. She realized without looking that she was stood up, strapped to a hard metal gurney that she understood was for torture purposes. She had placed many in these straps, and it had never ended well for them. In the partial fragments of consciousness she had retained in the ambush, a familiar pang of deadly fear cooled her blood to icy temperatures. When she opened her eyes for the third time, it took only a millisecond to identify her assaulter.

"General Nowell'nd... I can't say I'm surprised," Sa'avia hissed.

"Silence, Sith," came the reply. "Do you think you're in control here?" A shock of electricity wracked her already tormented body. "Try anything and we will exterminate you right here and now." Despite the threat, she could sense a very strong source of fear scratching at his mind. She could utilize that.

"We? So swift to play the turncoat."

"I said silence!" Another jolt of electricity sent hot searing pain throughout her torso; a broken rib, if not five, being the result of her explosive tumble, screamed in protest.

"Yes," said the general, "we." Coming into view from behind was an average looking man, dressed in a familiar grey uniform. She had seen his face many times working the maintenance on the main reactor of her ship. Then, another crew member stepped forth. Then another. And another. They kept appearing until twelve trusted imperial crew members faced her, their expressions blank. Anger flared up to take the place of physical pain. Seven of these faces were trusted imperial agents. Standing with them were the Republic troops she had spotted standing guard outside the compound. There hadn't been an infiltration mission at all, though that was obvious. This compound was a detention center for her execution. But in addition, this wasn't just a set up. It was mutiny.

"What? Nothing to say now? I'm sure you must be surprised."

She would not grace him with her voice. Rather, she probed his mind for an opening, seeking a passage to leak deception into his thoughts. He had been trained well to be guarded in his thoughts, as tapping into him was like driving a spike into a wall by hand alone. Nevertheless, she found a small, pin sized opening, and immediately set about exploiting it. However, the moment she opened her mouth to speak, the opening vanished; closed up in a thick mental fortress. He had detected her presence there.

"I warned you! No tricks!" Another wave of voltage arched through her ragged body, draining her of the last reserves of physical energy she had left. "Guard your minds, brothers," General Nowell'nd commanded the traitors that stood with him, "the witch is trying to deceive us!"

Rushing to invade the minds of any of the crew before they could shut themselves off from her influences, she stumbled upon an oddly humorous attribute. She didn't need to. Although he had given the order, only one of the traitors actually withheld his thoughts from being broadcasted to her. The others... They were simply standing with minds wide open. What was most curious, is that one in particular seemed to be actively displaying a single thought for her to latch on to. Loyalty. Straining to meet the eyes that matched the mind, she could definitely make it out through sight alone. In each and every one of their gazes was held the palpable image of loyalty. Not to the general, but to her! Laughing hurt, but was irresistible in the moment of triumph and realization. It was a double crossing indeed, but towards the double crosser.

"Something funny," the general rhetorically inquired.

"Quite so, general. You play the fool so well, I couldn't help myself." The brute of a man stood slightly perplexed at her turn of attitude. Then, in absolute surprise, as if she had given an order, the agents each snapped into a combat stance, drawing their blasters, and laid waste to the republic guards standing by. "You were a fool to think that my troops would so easily fall away from what they knew to be true power and be so easily defiled in mind by such a coward as you." Even as she spoke, the "traitors" walked back to stand beside her, with only one still standing in surprise, now looking back and forth from her to the others. General Nowell'nd's expression of surprise was invigorating, and through his terror she gained the strength to release her own bonds with a wave of her hand.

"What are you waiting for!? Shoot her," General Nowell'nd cried desperately to his false cohorts. The only one to obey the order was the traitorous agent, who extracted his weapon from his side. Drawing his own weapon, the general waved it frantically in between her and the loyal agents, who in turn drew their own. "Cowards! You would have been greatly rewarded!"

"Not as much as they surely will be for their loyalty to me," her voice was already regaining its strength as she made a steady pace towards him, the crew following close behind her, the same one hesitating for just a moment again.

"Cowards," he called again, finally resting his sights on a single target and pulling the trigger. However, before the bolt was able to escape the barrel, a deft and invisible force threw the blaster into the air, the fiery projectile going wide. The crew member hadn't so much as flinched. Well disciplined, she thought to herself. What was even more disciplined was their unspoken refusal to discharge their own weapons in retaliation; this was her kill, and they knew it well. She continued her pace forward. The man that stood with the general dropped his blaster immediately, seeing no point in attempting to engage in a numbers match of 12-2.

"Very well, then. It has come to this," with finality in his voice, Nowell'nd removed a small device from his pocket, brandishing it in the open. "Nobody move! You all know what this is! One more move from any of you, and we all go up!"

"How very cunning and cowardly of you, general." She didn't stop.

"I'm warning you! Stay back!" Her pace didn't shift a second. He was up against the wall now, and hadn't yet pushed the button. In his desperation and terror, his mental guard was brought down, and Sa'avia could finally hear his every thought. The trigger wasn't even active. There was no bomb. No explosives. It was his last ploy to scare her into submission, and it had failed.

"What are you going to do now, general; I'm curious." She was face to face, then his head was sinking slowly as he retreated down the wall into a fetal position, pleading for mercy. "Out of pity from your miserable sight, I'll leave you with this last reassurance-" Suddenly, the traitorous crew member was flung forward and held tight in a force grip in mid air, "you didn't die alone."

The prey's neck gave a satisfactory pop as the pressure increased tenfold and mangled the brain stem. As the body crumpled to the ground, Darth Mijara pivoted away from the sobbing general, and waved an executive head for his disposal. She didn't even pause to listen to the sound of blasters discharging.

—«•»—

 **Author's Note: yikes! That one was long, but rough. Took me a few attempts. I hope it was at least satisfactory enough to struggle through so that we may get to the juicier plot details. I didn't feel like writing out all the details of how she escaped the compound. How many cares do I give? I'm sick in bed today, so not many. Besides, this chapter was long enough for a two parter.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV:**

The screeching of sirens made Sa'avia's head swim. The obnoxious noise was not helping her concussion in the least. It had most likely been triggered remotely by one of the fallen personnel she now kicked to the side as she and her crew made their way down another corridor, searching for the exit. Along the way, she had managed to recover her stolen lightsaber, having been in the possession of one of the republic officials laying dead somewhere in the maze of corridors behind them. It was probably he that had raised the red alert, which set the entire facility on the defensive.

Even now, as Darth Mijara rounded another corner, she could hear the heavy footfalls of republic troops heading her way. Her soldiers took partial cover within the decorative pillars and indents carved into the walls, while she strode forward, meeting the enemy head on as they rounded the corner, coming face to face with the glowing red blade of the dreaded Sith. They dropped like stones as each armored figure had a hole punched through their flesh by a precise blaster shot, or falling victim to a searing slash through their abdomen; Six more to add to the still smoking pile of corpses now lining the hallways.

Although she had recovered the strength to function, she could sense her body quickly failing. She was stumbling too much to hide, and she feared her troops would loose moral if they saw their leader fall. Her senses were going wild, and it was difficult to focus them in a specific direction. The crew members did well to keep her well defended in her injured state, as well as guiding her to the best of their remembrance towards the exit.

—«•»—

... _Sa'avia..._

She turned with a start. She hadn't heard her own birth name uttered in so long. It sounded foreign, alien, and strange, yet vaguely familiar and nostalgic. Turning to face the voice that seemed to call out to her from such a long distance, she met the ghastly face of-

"Hhh!" Once again, Darth Mijara woke in a cold sweat. She didn't ever think she had such perfect recollection of her mother's face. Even as she recalled the short dream, the details of the face became blurry and indistinct. But she remembered the shock of how definitive it had been, before all detail was scrubbed away. Replacing the fading memory was the very clear and certainly real face of her master, Lord Mortalitous, staring studiously in at her as she floated restfully in a full body bacta-tank. The mask feeding her oxygen released a myriad of bubbles as she took a deep breath and exhaled, letting the remnants of the dream be washed away. Her master never took his eyes off her. They pierced her to the very core, making her feel more naked than she already was as she floated in the healing solution.

Though he never allowed her to penetrated his mind, he had left a very narrow and shallow channel open to her. He was waiting for a message. She obediently delivered a telepathic assurance into his consciousness, a simple feeling of strength to reassure him that she was still strong, though his apprentice had taken quite a beating. Not that he so much was concerned for her well being; he just needed to keep tabs on all his assets. That was the essence of a true military tactician. That was the epitome of power; affection was an exploitable weakness. Receiving her reassurance, he immediately and coolly removed from the medical bay.

In truth, Sa'avia felt very weak. She didn't quite remember all the events that had taken place that led up to her back on board the command ship. There had been a very rough ride within the same cargo transport that both delivered her onto the planet's surface as well as aided in the attempt to blow her off the face of it. She would like nothing more than to scrap the entire thing for no reason other than to purge the galaxy of its existence. She had remained partially conscious up until the ship entered the hanger, and after that, all was a blank. The loyalist crew members had received their reward, a healthy sum of money plus minor promotions, and the spies that had given such false information leading to her assassination attempt also reaped their own reward at the end of a firing line. In the end, General Nowell'nd was no more than a byword for any anyone holding future thoughts of treachery.

—«•»—

"Is there any other medical service I may provide," the droid monotonously intoned.

"You are dismissed," came the reply. Standing up and walking now without assistance, using the renewed strength of her legs, Darth Mijara made her way immediately into her chambers and removed her clothes, addressing the healing work of the droid herself. A fresh set of scars lined her face and made her gaze that much more intense. Lifting up her arm, she ran a free hand below and to the side of her left breast, checking the three ribs that had been fractured. Another large scar ran perpendicular to the healed ribs where a chunk of rock had torn her flesh. Several other places had similar scars and bruises, but she felt more than capable of returning a hundred fold the wounds she had endured upon the enemy that had caused such marring to her body. Donning a fresh outfit over the tattered old one, she went at once to the bridge to give a fuller briefing to her precious master.

The pneumatic door hissed as it opened to allow her admittance to her master's presence. Lord Mortalitous, standing in his familiar place on the central dais, facing the spacious window looking out over the ship as a whole as well as the marvelous expanse of open space. Darth Mijara strode to take her rightful place at the side of her master, but stopped short as he turned rigidly to meet her with contempt. In a split second of reasoning, she dropped low to the ground in a kneeling gesture of obedience and submissiveness. She had not sensed his kindled anger while she was within the bacta-tank, and now she felt utterly clueless as to how best to navigate the situation.

"I have trusted you in all things these many cycles, and now you give me reason to forget the entirety of it, lay aside my better judgement, and to strike you down this very moment. Darth Mijara, you have proven most disappointing to me." Her lord's words seemed to knock the wind out of her, and the pain in her ribs almost seemed to flare up because of them. What had she done to so displease her master?

"Rise, apprentice, and speak," he commanded. But words failed her. What could she possibly say? Probing his mind for the matter was unfruitful and suicidal; for his mind was a locked vault, and if he caught her doing so he surely would not hesitate to cut her to pieces as he currently was resisting the urge to do so. There was no use in speaking with a mind as swallowed in trepidation as her's. Therefore, she remained silent, and prepared to endure a much harsher degree of decimation than the explosives could ever hope to match. Silence trailed on for only seconds, but within the small time enough tension had built up in the bridge as to cease all small chatter and communications amongst all personnel on board. He had given her strict command to speak, so she swallowed, and raised a very careful voice, keeping her eyes low and not raising from her kneeling position, no matter how bad her muscles started to cramp.

"Master... I have done all that you have required of m-"

"Perhaps I have not _required_ , but I have most certainly _expected_ outcomes better than what you have demonstrated this last!" She shrank lower into her bow and deeper into herself.

"My lord, it was a set up and I was ambushed," she attempted to excuse herself to no avail.

"Had you not the sense to discover such a common tactic as a tracking beacon placed on your person? I have never been so embarrassed to hear of a Sith falling prey to a simple team of five pathetic soldiers! And to think that such a Sith was one of my own upbringing! I have turned a blind eye to the crew members' secrecy because they had no other option and because of their valiant display of discipline in combat; all the while you were seen stumbling around, and faltering in such a crucial time. Did you think I would not hear of such weakness? Did you honestly deceive yourself in thinking that that very action would not reach the ears of the _council_!? I should hope to think not, but I see that there is not much trust I can place in your competence, nor your abilities, anymore!"

Sa'avia was crushed beneath the brutal chastisement and cruel criticism. Her anger flared within, the Dark Side of the Force bringing power and hatred to her entire being. At the same time, the very same energy emanated from a much stronger source towering over her head. To lash out in her shame, humiliation, and anger would bring about her destruction that much more swiftly. How he had managed to contain such power within his frame seemed an impossibility to her. Her borders were already swelling to the point of expulsion, and she prayed that the abuse would be suspended so that such would not come to blows.

The fear of death was once again making its sickly slither into her heart, despite her attempts to force it out. She could feel the wrath and hatred directed towards her, and she could almost taste the sensation of her master's lightsaber searing her torso in twain, her greatest fear swallowing her up in itself. Despite her loyalty to her lord, Sa'avia would fight with every tooth and nail to keep the dreaded outcome from unfolding, even if it meant bringing it upon him. Just as soon as she felt as if the building tension was about to break into catastrophe, her mind already poised to attack, the dark cloud suddenly dissipated with the voice of Lord Mortalitous returning to its familiar stone like coolness.

"Out of shear _respect_ to your previous successes, I am granting you this very merciful second chance. Such a privilege is hard earned, so expect to work extra diligently to come back into good graces." Good news, but her imperceptible sigh of relief was an early rejoice. "Thirteen hours in the pit, immediately."

—«•»—

 **Author's Note: My goodness, that was...interesting. I had a few ideas on how this chapter was going to turn out, from going straight into the crucial plot detail I've been procrastinating for so long, to Darth Mijara being "retrained," to... Yikes! We won't go there. But anyway, I have one more chapter to go before I feel like I can include this plot detail I've been trying to insert since chapter 2 (get on it, I know). Onward and outward, then!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V:**

Finally back in the quiet of her chambers after hours of listening to the screams of her fellow incarcerated, Sa'avia settled down on the floor, beginning to work the details of the torture out of her mind. Falling swiftly into a meditative trance, she pondered and explored the secrets the Force might provide for her.

—«•»—

This time the scenes of death, gore, and decimation did not take her by surprise. She could feel their presence hissing forth from the bowels of her subconscious as she slipped deeper into her meditation. The fear was as palpable as the floor beneath her, but after the time spent in the torture sessions, Darth Mijara was bound and determined to face it down and destroy it. Letting the grotesque display of carnage spill out in detestable fashion, she was met with an onslaught of a thousand different scenarios of her heinous torture, and sickening demise. Torture she could handle, but the ever consuming wave of death made itself weigh heavily upon her frame, its inescapable maw open and imposing. It laughed at her terror, and made a sealing claim upon her soul. Repeatedly and in many various and increasingly agonizing ways, Sa'avia watched herself perish over and over. Whether it be as merciful as a lightsaber blade splitting her in two, or as cruel as being impaled upon a spike and left out to dry in the desert heat as fouls of every species took it's meal from her flesh, the result was the same. Darth Mijara was destined to die. It was the only fear that had no hope of being overcome.

Then, out of the shadows of her mind formed a face. It was a man's face, and every detail was brought to extreme clarity. Who was this man? She had never seen him before. What did he have to do with her? Was he the one that would eventually end her life? No, she would never let that happen. Furious at the audacity of her own mind to fool her into thinking that such a thing was possible, she wiped the vision away and awakened to the comforting darkness of her cabin quarters.

—«•»—

Lord Mortalitous paced thoughtfully upon the bridge, facing the duraglass windows. The personnel skulked about him, trying to minimize their presence from his expansive senses. His apprentice's foolish antics during the last mission had brought great displeasure upon him from the council. Of course they demanded her immediate punishment to ensure retention of control over her. A Sith this powerful must have strict authority placed above her, lest she seek to place herself above the council and potentially attempt a coup. However, Lord Mortalitous understood better than anybody that his was an apprentice that could undergo any punishment without alteration in behavioral pattern. Even thirteen hours was far too merciful. As much as he detested the thought of losing an asset with as much power as Darth Mijara possessed, he knew perfectly well what had to be done. Yet, even he did not have enough power to ensure that her death would be easy. Should he order an executioner, he was confident the young acolyte would dispose of them with ease. A massacre aboard the ship would erupt, and would be costly. He himself could not assail her, as Lord Mortalitous was confident the same result would occur. A few more options remained, but there was one in particular that glimmered with the golden light of a win-win scenario. His mind settled, the Sith Lord summoned his apprentice.

—«•»—

After the previous events, Sa'avia dared not to speak a word as she knelt down before her master, not even chancing a glance at his boots.

"Darth Mijara, your chance to redeem yourself is at hand. Word of you has reached the republic's ears and, to our fortune, have become uneasy. Because of this, to our misfortune, they have increased their security on all military operations, and all of my current assets are under scrutiny." Lord Mortalitous' displeasure at being so restrained was evident in the atmosphere of the room. "Seeing as I have no one to spare in order to sabotage or exploit any of these operations that may prove critical to our victory, I am inclined to show my hand just a bit and allow you to provide some decent results. The republic is on guard for anything that might be suspicious of a Sith attack. Therefore, in order to draw their attention away for my agents to sabotage their plans, you, Mijara, will provide a distraction by whatever means you see fit. For once, I am ordering you to make yourself known. Be seen. Cause trouble. Destroy whomever dares to stand in your way. There is only one thing I demand from you: do not disappoint me.

"There is a munitions checkpoint in the Gal-forek forest on the planet Baalmorra. See to it that they understand the power of the Dark Side, Darth Mijara."

The Sith apprentice had stood, bowed, and departed. This time there was no rough cargo transport. This time, all the stealth and military precision was incorporated into a single, sleek, infiltration craft. With several other large spacecraft all surrounding the war-torn planet, belonging to both imperial hands and republic, it was the primary ship designed for such a landing. Large enough to fit three teams for swift deployment (though manned by only her, a pilot, and three guards at this time), yet small enough for ease in maneuverability, the X380 "Silent Blade" infiltrator shot through the clouds at breakneck speed and lighted upon the ground within the nearest outcropping of trees that hadn't yet been burned to the ground. The checkpoint only twenty four miles away, Sa'avia swooped away on a provided speeder bike, wasting no time for the enemy to prepare a counter attack.

—«•»—

 **Author's Note: so...yeah... Ya know that plot turning detail I've been alluding to these past few chapters? Yup, totally threw it away. Deleted it. Tossed it. Scrapped it. I figured it would be much more surprising for it to happen during and not before this next chapter. Trust me, it makes more sense. But, for satisfaction's sake, I'll post it as an alternate chapter for you to see what I was going with, and then agree with me as to why I did it in this way and not the alternative... It will make sense when you read it, trust me... All action in the next chapter. Get pumped.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI:

Hover-droids of every make and function hummed and whistled as they carried their individual loads to their individual stations. Ducking a low flying service droid with a pallet of crates spilling over with an assortment of weapon clips and rounds, two figures wrapped in brown cloaks and tunics proceeded towards another high standing figure, who, when spotting the approaching persons, dismissed the protocol droid that relayed calculations and data in a monotonous voice.

"Master Jedi, we were not informed of your arrival. I apologize but we don't have much to offer you in terms of comfort or luxury."

"Thank you, commander," Jedi Master Ibo-nek Nikana said graciously. "This is my apprentice Jeema Sontar," he said, gesturing to the young female at his side. "We have been dispatched to oversee this operation. I assume you have been informed of the recent events that have transpired on Alderaan?"

"Most certainly. A Sith siting is no surprise nowadays but certainly not one to take lightly. I trust you have found solace in our measures to keep this compound secure."

"Quite the contrary, commander," spoke the young apprentice, only to be gently reprimanded by her master to not speak out of turn. The older Jedi then proceeded to expound in full the flaws in the structure of the security details they both had surveyed since their arrival. The commander made little attempt to excuse himself for his error, seeing no point in arguing against the wisdom of a more experienced superior.

"Well Master Jedi, I appreciate your concern over my operation. Unfortunately much of what you have suggested is beyond my capabilities. We are operating at a minimal standard, and there's not much armament we can spare for our own needs when we are struggling to supply the front lines with the bare minimum."

"What are the current ratios for this sect-" the Jedi cut himself off suddenly, his apprentice raising her head just as suddenly.

"I sense it, too."

—«•»—

It was ironic to her to think that on such a war torn planet like Baalmorra there would still be trees as lush and full as these that rushed past her as Sa'avia raced ever closer to the target checkpoint. Then, as she about reached the tree line where the forest ended, a subtle and mental barrier struck her conscious. Though it didn't have any real force behind it, the shock alone nearly caused her to leap off the speeder bike. Yanking down on the brakes, the speeder halted and she dismounted. Mentally feeling and testing the barrier, she found a Force connection. Allowing her mind to slip from its physical frame, Darth Mijara tapped into the line and followed it back to its source.

Through her mind's eye, the ground and trees whipped past at a rate faster than any speeder could travel. A large military structure loomed before her. The compound. Understanding exactly what this meant, Sa'avia attempted to backpedal, escape, or flee in any direction, but she was being held fast by the invisible force that she had slipped into. It clutched her with a vise grip and sucked her further into the foresight. Penetrating the walls, the Force dragged her all the way back to the source of the mental wrestle. Sa'avia's heart stopped beating for just a few moments when she saw the same face glaring her down as the one she had seen in the vision back on board her ship. It was only then that the grip released and she was able to break free, her mind flooding back into herself.

Jedi! And none other than the one from her vision! How had such a factor escaped the notice of her master? Was it possible that it could have just been a simple overlook? No, most certainly not. Which left only one conclusion. Her master was trying to rid himself of her! She did not allow herself to feel betrayed or even remotely shocked. This wasn't a second chance. There was no such thing. This was his way of either proving her worth or liquidizing an unprofitable sluggard. And now, she was unsure of which would be the outcome. Seeing the face in both visions only confirmed her hypothesis that it was he that would be the one to steal her life away. Even now, she could sense his approach, the energy of the Force growing stronger in the atmosphere the closer he drew. She was not equipped to handle such a threat. She detested to admit it, but she was not yet powerful enough to take on a fully trained Jedi. Still, as she contemplated the situation, there was a glimmer of potential resting on the horizon of opportunity. A padawan.

She could sense it clearly now. The other Jedi's presence had been drowned out beneath the shadow of the powerful master. Yet, as they made their way steadily closer, Darth Mijara could make out every detail of the female apprentice through the Force. Now all there was to do was lie in wait for the opportunity to strike.

—«•»—

"Master," Jeema called out, trying to keep pace with the contemplative older figure as they made their way towards the speeder bay. "What is your plan?" The Jedi paused, not making eye contact with his Padawan, instead looking about as if he might see something in the distance that would offer some magical solution. Resting his eyes finally on the concerned face of the young woman, he pursed his lips before answering.

"I don't know. The commander and his troops are all on high alert and will have a secure defense set up shortly. In the meantime, all we need to do is watch and keep an open mind to the Force. It will guide us." Jeema nodded in agreement.

"The Force will guide us," she repeated, though the elementary phrase did little to reassure her and only set greater strain on her nerves.

"Good. Now, what can you feel?" Jeema shut her eyes as her face scrunched up in concentration. There was a definite darkness looming above the immediate area, seemingly stemming from a particular direction, but overall the darkness choked out any other detail before it could reach her mind. A spoken "nothing" was all she could offer her master for a response.

"My fear exactly; the dark side is very prevalent here. Tread carefully." With that, Jedi Master Ibo-Nek stepped towards the nearest military scout speeder with his apprentice hot on his heels. Understanding her master's headstrong intentions, she halted him.

"Wait! Did you not say we needed to watch and listen?"

"I have listened and the Force is silent. The choice to act now falls to us. We may remain to be surprised, or we can meet the threat in a preemptive strike. There is danger in each scenario, therefore I need your absolute conviction in this choice. Either way," he paused for a second, tilting his head towards the sky, "I've got a bad feeling about this." Then, he mounted a craft and she, not wanting to be left behind, joined her master in his decision.

—«•»—

They are coming, Darth Mijara's thoughts called out to her. Surely enough, as she looked out from her vantage point, she could see the faint dust trail of a speeder bike narrowing in on her position at breakneck speed. Exactly as she desired. Still, two Jedi against one Sith was an even match at best, and she wasn't feeling up to her best quite yet. She needed something to tilt the tables in her favor. She needed seclusion. Dropping back into the tree's foliage she stood concealed in, she began conjuring up through the Force an illusion to distract and disorient. A thick and eerie fog descended upon the forest floor, blocking out much of the sunlight. As the speeder bike finally reached the tree line, the two robed figures dismounted and proceeded into the mist undeterred.

—«•»—

Come to die? The voice seemed audible, but also echoed from the deep corners of both of their minds simultaneously. Jeema and Her master exchanged looks before proceeded towards the perceptible presence. The conjured fog make sight difficult and they tried to stick close to one another to avoid accidental separation, but not so close as to make them an easy target to collateral damage.

Can you feel it? Jeema spun around just in time to see a shadow merge swiftly back into the fog out of sight. The whisper had sounded so realistic, she was convinced there had been a definite sensation of breath upon the back of her neck. Shaken but not wanting to allow her fears to consume her, Jeema turned back to her master for consolation...only to find he had vanished. Her breath caught in her throat and panic was starting to set in.

The fear you hold is your ally. Spinning in circles to discover a single trace of her master was futile. She was breathing in short and shallow bursts, the air from her lungs barely displacing the fog. Embrace it, the voice called to her.

Your fear offers you so much marvelous power! Why do you resist it?

"You cannot sway me, witch! Show yourself!" The cool blue glow of her ignited lightsaber reflected off the encroaching cloud, blinding her further. She kept it activated regardless. All the while, Darth Minara watched maliciously from the branch directly above the Padawan, now spinning in small and comically careful circles.

You will be destroyed if you you do not. The lie in this was obvious. Mijara had every intention of slaughtering this frail creature despite any moral decision on their part. In fact, with every ragged breath and every heavy heartbeat she could sense the padawan's mental defenses being brought lower and lower. This was child's play.

"Reveal yourself, coward!"

"Very well." The change from subliminal to auditory shook her to the core, the voice coming from directly behind her ear. Jeema did not have even a moment's notice before a cruel red blade swept deathly shy of her face, instead impacting with a nearby tree. The nimble Jedi tucked and rolled, pivoting up and staring into the eyes of the Sith. Perhaps it was the fog distorting her vision, but they seemed to glow with the embers of hatred, fixated wholly upon her. The eye contact remained but a second before the blunt end of the saberstaff collided with the underside of her jaw, flinging her head backwards into the smoldering tree. Jeema quickly scrambled to pick herself off the ground to once again face her foe, but only to be met with an empty space.

Is this the only effort you could put forth for me? I'm disappointed.

"Where are you," she cried out into the unknown, spitting the blood from her mouth.

Your master put up a much more valiant effort. He would be so ashamed to call you his apprentice.

"W-what have you done with him!?" As if answering her, a distant cry of agony echoed through the trees. A stream of morbid scenes suddenly flashed through her mind before she could staunch them; Her master gutted with a searing beam of crimson, to a similar view of him being flayed alive, to decapitation, disembowelment, dismemberment, and resting on one of him simply lying in a pool of fresh blood with his head cocked at an awkward angle. Reclaiming her mind through willpower, she swept the scenes aside and refocused on the foggy forest only in time to have another near miss from a lightsaber blade coming this time from her right. Parrying the blow with her own lightsaber in the nik of time, she aimed a direct swing at the other woman's collar. Ducking down to evade, Darth Mijara allowed the swing to follow through, only to spring up and push the momentum of the blade with her own, pinning Jeema's to her side. Stealing a cheap shot to the temple, a gloved fist connected with nothing but condensed cloud as Darth Mijara retreated once again into the fog.

You have fear. You have hatred. Use them! Strike me down and save your master!

However, the time for talk was over; both parties could understand it now. The fog was whisked away, and there stood Darth Mijara, awaiting the final bout that would result in the death of her foe. Jeema repositioned herself in a neutral stance to face the Sith, all too aware of how outmatched she was. Then, the tension dropped like a curtain and the two sides clashed together in a heated exchange of blows to each other's defensive skill.

The balance of skill was obviously heavily weighted in favor of the chaotically aligned woman rather than the younger and less experienced apprentice. Jeema parried a light jab to the shoulder, only to be buffeted by a series of blunt strikes with the club end of her unique saberstaff followed by a Force push over a fallen tree. Though she was merely playing with her opponent, Mijara did not let up on her attack, giving no time for the Jedi to recover from her spill until she once again was faced with a horizontal sweep to the legs, a backhanded slash at mid level, and a crescent kick to the side of the head. Next was a downward stab, another kick to the chin, a vertical swing, and a twirling diagonal crescent. Parry after parry, dodge after dodge, Jeema was faltering and the final blow was imminent. Any counterattack was met with a solid guard and a volley of various maneuvers to put her off balance.

The fight rolled on throughout the woodland. They leaped over and onto and across foliage of every sort, trying to gain a stronger advantage over the other based upon terrain. Up, overhead, left, thrust, down, parry, right, pivot, jump, swing, crouch, lash. Even as Darth Mijara had her back turned she still carried the fight in her capable hands, toying with and despairing the other. A sick and twisted smile flashed upon her face as she spun a final time, flinging Jeema's blade out of her guarded stance, she turned to claim victory with a piercing stab-

—«•»—

 **Author's Note: yes I really am going to leave it there for this week. By this point I'm sure it's easy to predict what happens next, but the suspense is fun to build up anyway. Next chapter will be the end of the first arc in this series.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII**

…

Sa'avia looked down in horror and disbelief. The shockingly blue beam of energy protruded from the direct center of her chest, her own vicious red lying deactivated on the ground beside her. Everything slowed down, as if the universe was mercifully giving her the opportunity to comprehend all that was happening and was about to occur.

She...she was...no. There was no way! She couldn't! It wasn't possible! Not like this… Wasn't death meant to come from the man in her vision? No! She was a Sith! Death was for her to control and deliver! She was above death! She...she...was dying… Harsh and irregular, her breathing was perceptibly slowing down. Her heart was frantic, matching the panic of herself. Then, rising to the surface of it all was that same personified Death laughing at her expense. It had finally claimed her after so long a time of fearing and fighting. The Padawan held the fatal stance for an eternity as her mind reeled with the consequences of her action. Knees gave out from underneath Sa'avia when the dreaded weapon was yanked free from its forged wound.

A sensation as alien as anything could be flooded her consciousness; the feeling of finality and ultimate despair. This emotion seemed to have been reserved for this exact moment for this precise purpose to testify of all being and perception coming to a dreadful and inescapable finale. All that she was, and all that she had hoped to be; everything that ever mattered to her; her story, interests, deepest thoughts, basic senses, goals and ambitions; all of it was fading away without the chance or possibility of ever carrying on, being conveyed, or expressed forevermore. The thought of coming to a close made her weep for the first and last time since an age she could no longer recall. Pleading would gain nothing, nor would struggling against the tide that pulled her into the darkness of eternity. The unknown void gaped before her and she was being sucked towards it with increasing speed. Time was almost up, but there was one last thing that ran through her mind before departing this life; the need to live on in whatever fashion possible...

Then, in the final moments of reality, the answer to death mockingly presented itself in sudden revelation. It was too cruel, the irony of the fact. Here she had been, striving all her life to discover the solution, and now, when it was too late, it revealed itself only to scoff at her own weakness. However, Darth Mijara's role was not yet finished.

Perhaps fate had been too ambitious or cocky to anticipate her desire to live. Perhaps there was a measure of calculation that was misplaced in the universe that caused the revelation to be early, rather than late. For, even as she sank into oblivion, Sa'avia grasped at one last golden thread before she disappeared; herself. All her emotions, thoughts, conscious and subconscious, feelings, doubts, and personality were all flying around in her mind as her vital systems began to shut down. In her last desperate seconds, and with the final traces of power she could muster, she channeled every single thing that made her her to the forefront of her mind and pushed! Yes, pushed! The effort seemed as much physical as it was mental as she sent everything contained in her brain forward into the open and defenseless mind of the opposing threat; the Jedi Padawan named Jeema.

—«•»—

Though the fog had been dispersed for a great amount of time, it appeared to wash over her again in an instant as Sa'avia was sent reeling backwards from something she did not know. Everything was a blur in her mind, and a feeling of foreignness radiated from everything she could perceive. The fogginess of her mind shrouded everything in darkness and made her surroundings indiscernible. What happened? Where was she? A horrible gap in her immediate memory caused panic and obvious concern to raise her heart rate. Slowly, minute details began to swim towards her.

Trees. She was in a forest? Of course! That's right, she had been in a forest when she had… Had what? What happened? Why had she been in a forest? The next thing she discovered was the lightsaber in her hand. However, it clearly didn't belong to her. It was wrong in every detail. Who's was it? Where had she gotten it? Why was she holding it? Then, the fog cleared just a tad more and she was able to recognize a shape, no more than a funny looking lump lying in an awkward position. Ever slower came the recognition of the shape as a body, but no more than that. The mind fog still kept everything in a mess of colors and shapes, but this thing was definitely a dead body. That was when a second memory jumped back into place. There had been a fight. She was in the fight. She...there was…a Jedi! No...two Jedi! But she had only been in conflict with one. Why? Maybe the other one had run away? That seemed reasonable. Details still failed to click, but one thing was certain; she had won. Perhaps that was why she had a different lightsaber in her hand. She must have claimed it as a trophy for her victory. Hers she could now see was lying on the ground next to the body, face and other details still unidentifiable. It didn't matter, a dead Jedi was a dead Jedi and it had no other meaning to her than that. She swiftly reclaimed her own lightsaber and proceeded back to her ship, fitting pieces here and there along the way to give a full briefing to her master. He would be pleased with her success at destroying an opposing threat.

—«•»—

The crunching of leaves underfoot announced the arrival of the second individual. It had taken all she had to mask her identity from herself, and she prayed that she hadn't been foolish enough to come back for a second glance. She hadn't. Instead, stepping out of the woodwork was the very face she had foreseen. Here to finish the job no doubt. Laying here...she couldn't bring herself to say the word, but she was completely vulnerable to a finishing blow, not that it was necessary. In just a moment, she would be gone. However, out there, just a few seconds away, she still existed. It brought peace to her soul, knowing that she didn't end here. Yet the fear of fading away to nothingness still had a primal edge piercing her to the core.

Crouching down, the older Jedi looked deeply into the eyes of his enemy. There was no anger, nor resentment, but there was fear. In another lifetime, she would strive to exploit it to her advantage, but it served nothing now. The lack of malice in his gaze indicated that he had no idea what had taken place. This pleased her. His question was only confirmation of the fact.

"Where is she?" His voice was level, calm, and smooth, yet there was an unmistakable threat layered underneath. It was laughable, really. What was he going to do, kill her? She couldn't even respond if she wanted to; her speech capability had left the second the fresh wound in her chest cauterized. A wicked smile would suffice, a final victory against the Jedi scum. It must deceive him into thinking her had killed his precious Padawan. She hoped it did. He wasn't, unfortunately, foolish enough to jump to conclusions so easily. With no strength left and her vision fading, the Jedi placed his hand on her head and stole away the only minute detail she could not hold on to; the fact that the girl had walked away unharmed. Everything else she held on tight, dragging it down to the grave with her. Darth Minara's final act of defiance was assuring the Jedi that his apprentice would never be found and he would never know where to look. Then, the laughing darkness overpowered her willpower and Sa'avia was brought into the depths of destruction.

—«•»—

Though she was an enemy to the Jedi and to the Republic, Master Ibo-nek honorabley took up the lifeless corpse of the fallen Sith and carried it respectfully back to the speeder he had arrived in and swooped back to the base, avoiding all questions and curious glances, glares, and inquiries. Trekking out to a soft plot of land not hardened yet by the effects of war, the chivalrous Jedi laid the woman to rest, an unmarked grave serving as the eternal home of a despised evil.

—«•»—

 **Author's Note: Now, raise your hand if you're confused over what the flip just happened. Force Clone. That's what happened. Sa'avia transferred her entire mind, conscious and subconscious, everything that makes up a human being mentally, including personality and decision making, into Jeema's own mind. The consequence of this action is Jeema's mind being buried underneath the fresh wave of memories and stuff, causing her to essentially become everything Sa'avia was save for physical appearances. For those EU loyalists like me (the true canon will rise again!), you will recognize this as something similar to what Sidious did when he transferred his soul into a clone. However, it is different in the sense that Saavia's transfer is more like a sustained mind trick, while the emperor literally possessed a clone.**

 **This chapter was very short, so I'll supplement it with the alternate chapter V that would have changed the way these events took place. It is as follows:**

 **Hatred's Embers**

 **Chapter V (alternate):**

The idea struck her like invisible lightning. It was wonderful. It was the answer she had been looking for. She had almost lost the desire to find the secret to overcoming death when all of a sudden the Force reached out to her instead and laid it before her as an act of charity. Now she would trample her fear underfoot where it belonged. She was a Sith, and now she was able to be so for all of time.

Heading to the brig, she could hardly withhold herself and she thought of where to begin the test she would have to run to develop this idea further.

—«•»—

"Where are you," Darth Mijara asked, beginning the first interrogation of her newest experiment on a non-priority prisoner that had been in the brig for only a couple of days.

"I- I... I don't know..." The Twi'lek spoke tentatively. Sa'avia frowned and sent a shot of lightning coursing through his body for his half-hearted answer. It wasn't the wrong answer. In all honesty, she wasn't really looking for any correct answer to that particular question. The shock was merely to put him in the right mindset of what happens should he think about trying to pass off a lie.

"What is your name?"

"K...Karaak-tsu," the twi'lek answered hesitantly. Whether this was true or false it did not matter. She would not even bother to probe his mind of it. This wasn't the question she was interested in, either.

"Very good," Sa'avia cooed at him. "Now, where were you born?"

"T-t-Taris." She frowned again. This actually was the question she needed answered correctly. She raised her hand before he spoke again. "No! Wait! It was Malastare! Wait... No... It was...Taris? Malastare?" He looked stunned and confused, and Darth Mijara's frown crooked back into a slight smile. It was working.

"Well? Which was it," she gleaned.

"I-... Uh... I don't kn- AAAAAAGGGHHH!" She sent another agonizing wave of electricity rippling through his thrashing figure. His confusion over his home planet was pleasing to her, but the solidity of her secret mental deception wasn't firm enough. She had tried to place her own memory of Malastare into his mind, but it didn't have much hold. His real memory of home was too set in stone. She would have to find a way to bury it, but not with this one. He had already undergone the "treatment." To try again with the same test subject would only pollute the conclusions.

"Thank you for your time. You're free to go." He was just about to stammer out what may have been a form of gratitude, but the burning gash across his throat silenced his last words forever. Darth Mijara retracted the blade of her lightsaber and began to prepare for her next deception.

—«•»—

Time rolled on slowly as subject after subject was taken away lifeless. She was running out of non-priorities, and she wouldn't dare interfere with the priority captives. They were her master's to deal with and his alone. To upset his work would mean death even for her. So, with her supply of worthless souls running low, she had to take more time to formulate the perfect lie.

—«•»—

Finally satisfactory results came in the form of a crew member that had stepped out of line. As he hung on the rack placed across the room from her, Darth Mijara felt comfortable enough to try the full test on this subject. She knelt down and began to channel the Dark Side of the Force as much as she could muster, straining under the weight of its mere presence. Through hard concentration, she could feel it begin to swell within her. The Force became alive in the room, and she could sense the raw fear of the man hanging across the way from her. She used it, built it up. His fear changed to terror, and his screams only added to the energy she needed to make the transfer. She conjured up all the memories of her life, from her childhood all the way up to just a few moments ago. She collected them all into the front of her mind and, like a blaster bolt, launched them all into the mental space of the screaming man, flooding every inch of space her very essence could fit into. His head waved frantically back and forth as his own experiences through life were buried beneath years of new memories. His demeanor changed. His posture straightened. His emotion went from that of terror to seething in just a matter of seconds. The transfer was complete.

Sa'avia stood, and before she even began the questions she knew that it had worked. Her memories were now his memories. Her life now his life. His knowledge of his entire existence was buried beyond recovery beneath what was now his reality.

"Who are you," Sa'avia asked. There was no response. Instead, the subject only raised his head, surprised to see herself standing before him. He smiled, knowing that she had been successful in creating a second version of herself. He was, as Darth Mijara now coined, the galaxy's first Force Clone. His smile did not last long. She was only the test subject. He wasn't meant to continue, only to be used and then discarded. The result was conclusive. She was successful, and now that she knew she was able to overcome death by proxy, she didn't need the evidence anymore. And so, she was met with the fear they had both shared for only a moment before his corpse was removed from the room.

 **Author's Note: The switch between the pronouns of He to She in the last paragraph demonstrates the clone's representation of a female mind within a male body. This so happened to be one of the reasons I scrapped this chapter.**

 **Ps. I thought I had posted this chapter a long time ago, in the meantime I've been writing chapter 8. So sorry for keeping you all waiting twice as long as necessary. Oh well, now you can have 2 (technically 3) chapters for the price of one, as I'm posting the next immediately after this one.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII**

Stepping lightly, and trying her best not to stumble around too much, Sa'avia made her trek back to the ship. Her mission was not yet done, she understood, but the worst case of nausea she had ever experienced would not aid her in this quest. Besides, her master would be interested in learning of how she had encountered a Jedi and destroyed them. Perhaps it would even regain her his favor.

—«•»—

The small clearing where the ship lay appeared before her, and she was grateful to not have to watch for enormous tree roots catching at her feet. The troops guarding the small craft turned their heads in sudden alarm, and she barely had time to glance behind her, seeing no threat, before realizing their blasters were aimed directly at her.

"Freeze!" one of them called.

A flash of panic and the fiery memories of her past ran through her mind; her senses and suspicions had been correct. Her master truly had intended to dispose of her. She should have known second chances never came in the wake of failure when it came to her master. She dispelled her own fear and recentered her focus back to reality. She had bigger problems to deal with at the present moment. She summoned up what strength her body had left, and dashed back into the tree line, ducking behind one of the wider trunks as the soldiers opened fire. Whether they were traitors or soldiers following orders, they were in her way.

The thought of diving into battle with her lightsaber made her muscles scream in protest, so she rested her head against the tree and reached out with her mind. She could feel the thoughts of the approaching soldiers, weak and unfocused. She dug deeper, until she could feel their entire minds. She took a moment to revel in the feeling of having the entire beings of a dozen soldiers practically in her hand.

Then, Darth Mijara crushed them.

A few managed to grunt in pain before falling to the ground, but most of them crumpled without a sound.

She pushed off the tree, rising to her feet, and walked towards the ship. As she boarded, the captain poked his head out of the cockpit, and they locked eyes. "Captain," she said, sensing a wave of terror pass through his own mind. She nodded her head to the corpses. "I've had quite enough dealings with traitors and rogues." The captain, unable to speak, held up his hands in surrender. Sa'avia drew her lightsaber, hanging from her belt next to the blade of the fallen Padawan.

"You will pilot this ship back to Lord Mortalitous or I'll take my time with you." The captain simply gulped, then stumbled back inside the cabin.

—«•»—

"You're a dead man walking if you think you're gonna get anywhere close to the Sith Lord," the captain spoke, seemingly gaining confidence with his own voice after flying in silence for the past couple of minutes. "Chances are, they'll blast us into oblivion before we can even approach the flagship."

"Silence," Sa'avia hissed. She wouldn't be talked down to by a pathetic and cowardly traitor, even if he had been under orders. "I still have not decided whether or not I will kill you after. I wouldn't try me."

"What difference does it make. There's nothing a Jedi scum like you could do to me that Lord Mortalitous won't match for my treachery." The captain's back grew more rigid and straight, his chest becoming more puffed out, putting on an air of false confidence. Suddenly, the crimson hue of a drawn lightsaber illuminated his throat, and singed the tiny hairs growing there. Reeling in her emotions, Darth Mijara looked past the obvious insult to her rank as a Sith. Seeing the growing silhouette of her master's flagship in the distance of space, she hailed the vessel on the holo-comm. In an instant, a glowing blue figure loomed before her. Picking her words very carefully, she kneeled before her master.

"My lord, I have done as you have commanded," she began. Suddenly, the captain leapt out of his seat and rushed towards her.

"It's a trap! I'm sorry my Lor-!" He was sent catapulting as a burst of lightning struck his chest, his skull making a harsh 'twack' upon impact with the ship's interior plating before he sunk to the floor, unmoving.

"What is the meaning of this," the superior Sith demanded. Darth Mijara returned to her kneeling position.

"I would ask you the same! My soldiers do not turn traitor on a whim. I understand very few receive second chances from your hand, but I did not realize I had provoked your wrath to this degree!" The face underneath the hood contorted in what could have been confusion but most definitely was malice.

"If it is my sympathy you desire you will be sorely disappointed."

"You tried to have me killed!" Sa'avia, enraged at her master's betrayal and his dismissive tone, raised swiftly to her feet and pointed an accusing finger at the image.

"And in that is an evident mistake I will not fail to rectify. Fire at will, commander." All at once, the hologram faded away as fast as the color from the Sith apprentice's face.

—«•»—

There was a pause…

"I said, fire!"

"With all due respect, sir, the ship is one of our own. There may still be imperial-"

"The ship is no longer ours as it is no longer under our command. I will not see whoever that pilot is set it a single hair's breadth inside my hangar. Open fire!"

"Ye-yes, sir. Understood, sir." Lord Mortalitous watched earnestly as a crosshair reticule appeared on screen of the tactician's targeting computer. "We are locked on…" There was a few more buttons pressed as proper armament was loaded into the starboard cannons. "Proton torpedos away."

The glowing masses streaked across the void like death in the wind, directly striking the incoming vessel with the promise of such…

—«•»—

 **Author's Note: Honestly, let's face it. This isn't the worst hiatus I've taken. There is a picture I've found on the internet that describes how one can write for six pages consistently without fail, but suddenly spend six months stuck on a single transition paragraph. Such is the case with this latest chapter. Yes, it is short. Yes, it is late. However, I believe y'all would be more appreciative of a short late chapter than a longer later chapter. Was I right? Anyway, let us hope that the next will not be this hard pressed for inspiration or motivation.**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter IX

Lord Mortalitous' cape gave an ominous 'swoosh' as he turned in an about-face and taking seven, evenly measured and heavily placed steps before stopping and repeating the action in the opposite direction. His unceasing pacing placed the entire crew aboard the flagship in the depths of uneasiness, matching his own conscious anxiety. His mind travelled back to the previous event for the umpteenth time. The more he reflected on the strangeness of it all, the more his instincts called out to him that his judgment had been wrong. However, no amount of pondering had yet revealed what about the situation he had overlooked.

The Jedi girl had attempted a foolish infiltration, being so caught up in pride by even going so far as to practically announce her intentions to board and breach; but why? Why would she do such a thing? What had compelled her to be so foolish, thinking she could even come close to succeeding?

 _Revenge is a curious motivator_ , he mused. She had mentioned a previous attempt on her life, and by his hand no less, yet for the life of him, Lord Mortalitous could not recollect seeing her or hearing of her in all his days as a Sith. Surely, he had slaughtered a great many fathers, mothers, sons and daughters indiscriminately, so it was entirely possible that her claim had been true. Still...he was missing something. He knew it. He could sense it through the promptings of the Force. His mind growing tired of the dilemma, he cast the thoughts away and turned them to more pressing matters; namely, the sure demise of his apprentice...

The stolen ship had matched the one he had dispatched Darth Mijara in. If the Jedi had hijacked the craft, there was only one conclusion to be had. Mijara had fallen. If not, she had been captured and would face death soon enough. He had given the command to cease attempts to reach her holocommunicator an hour ago. One way or another, his former apprentice was gone. Lord Mortalitous allowed his mouth to turn a slight degree upwards at the concept.

 _Good riddance_ , he thought to himself. Her latest history had been nothing but failure. In truth, he felt the smallest conceivable amount of grief at her passing, though only for a second before crushing it beneath a tidal wave of resolve. It was not worth his time or respect to mourn someone that had not the decency to die bringing honor to the empire. _What a waste_ , he concluded before retreating to his chambers for more private reflection and maybe even sleep…

—«•»—

Sa'avia's world erupted into green light, rocking explosions, sickening corkscrews, and the hot, crushing g-forces of a crashing ship reentering the atmosphere of a war-torn planet. Sometime during the descent, she must have lost consciousness because, when she woke, the broken body of her former pilot was cushioned beneath her own.

 _Let's not make a pattern of this_ , she remarked, trying to keep the nausea at bay. Once the swimming sensation had dissipated, she pushed herself into a standing position, leaning against a twisted piece of durasteel, only to have the earth give way beneath her, throwing her forward, her face landing a few mere inches away from a bubbling puddle leaking in through a very large breach in the outer hull. The stink of the acid was enough to cause her to reel backwards into a crouch, before a harsh chemical burning flared through her entire palm, the pain radiating all the way up to her forearm. Yanking her hand to the instinctive protection of her chest, she saw the second acid puddle it had been submerged in. Looking about the wreckage, she did a swift damage assessment.

The front quarter of the ship she was currently within had broke apart from the other pieces after the initial explosion and during reentry. Counting herself lucky to have been in the fraction that had been cushioned by a twenty meter wide pit of toxic acid seemed an awkward thing to be thankful for; she survived the crash only to be swallowed up in the vile viscosity. Fate had really given her a cruel hand to play this time. Were she in better shape, a force leap would be a simple feat. However, with her body aching and head still swimming, Darth Mijara had no confidence that her aim would prove true if she were to fling herself towards the shore, which undoubtedly would give way to further acid eroding the rock beneath the lip.

The circumstances dire, and the crude substance already building up in the now sinking cabin, she found little choice in the matter and prepared for the worst. Taking a few steps back for a running start, and summoned up as much power she could spare in her run down condition, she propelled herself to the nearest patch of solid ground she could manage. Sure enough, as she predicted, the acid had eroded the rock and soil beneath the pit wall, which collapsed the second her foot struck it's ledge.

"RAAAAAUUUGGHH!" Knee deep in the yellow crude, penetrating waves of burning agony threatened to steal her consciousness once more. Whatever energy she had left was expended dragging herself from the muck onto the gritty, polluted silt of the razed planet's surface. Face buried in the toxic soil, she laid motionless, conserving her physical strength while channeling the Force to staunch the sharp pain spreading throughout her legs.

—«•»—

The din of infrequent clicking noise made its way to Sa'avia's ears as she rested. Remaining as still as before, she allowed it to grow louder and closer in proximity, an eerie humming emanating from the same source. Tenderly, she tested the constitution of her legs, the verdict coming to the conclusion that she would not be able to even stand before whatever oncoming creature approached. Keeping her physical eyes closed, she reached out with the Force and touched the mind of the monster, only to find an impenetrable mental barrier.

"K-k-keep your mind where it-t-t-t belongssssss," a cold voice reprimanded her. Braving to open her eyes and look upon her assumed assailant, she beheld a monstrosity in the form of a brown insectoid gliding effortlessly through the pond of poisonous slime. Reeling back from the abomination in horror, the pain in her crippled legs flared once more in protest. "Be st-t-t-till, ssssssitttthhhhh." Bewildered, she realized the creature was speaking to her.

 _It talks!_ A vague memory floated to the surface, one of a bestiary side note column in a data file she had skimmed about the planet before she landed. Colicoids, she noted. The insectoid creatures were immigrants to Balmorra and just so happened to have a sort of immunity to the pollutants infesting the planet, along with the annoyance of being "mind trick resistant." If this thing chose to attack, what defense had she? More clicking and humming filtered into her awareness and she beheld more colicoids seemingly surrounding her, boxing her in with no chance of escape.

"Be at-t-t-t peace-ssssss," it spoke once more, it's cold, clacking voice bringing her everything but peace. Swooping in from her blind spot, a chitin-formed appendage held her arms in place while another lifted her up onto itself. Turning about, the herd of colicoids marched back to their domain with their prize in tow.

—«•»—

Leaning against the holo-projector, the zabrak Jedi master, Ibo-nek, was broken by the news he had just received.

"We understand your plight, but we in no way can release you from your station at this moment," the council member informed. "We are grateful for the information you have provided, but it will take awhile for the Balmorran war council to scrounge together reinforcements sufficient to cover your absence." He was, understandably, incredulous. Did they not understand how much of a threat this posed to both the Jedi and the republic? Yet the council was concerned about a puny team of scrap soldiers? His feelings for his apprentice aside, some of the information she held was that of classified nature, some even critical to the success of many future operations! Would they really risk all of that just to fill the role of a glorified security guard?

"Do not fear for your apprentice. She is capable in her own right, and we are dispatching the most available Jedi as soon as we are-"

"With all due respect, I cannot oblige this command. Scrap together what you can. I'll contact you when I'm able." The council member started from his seat, but Ibo-nam cut the feed before he could hear anymore ridiculousness. If nothing else, his duty was to the republic, and that meant finding his lost apprentice at all cost. Determination swelling within, the Jedi master turned his back on the holo-projector and made his way to a military transport.

—«•»—

 **Author's Note: This is going to be the last chapter for awhile, as it is the end of the first "arc" and the into to the second. Here begins Sa'avia's quest to discover who she has become, and how a Jedi and a Sith will be forced to work together to accomplish their own individual goals...**


End file.
